


May the Best Man Win

by msmoocow



Category: Glee
Genre: Gen, M/M, klaine wedding mini bang
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-14
Updated: 2013-05-14
Packaged: 2017-12-11 20:12:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,166
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/802754
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msmoocow/pseuds/msmoocow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>These are his friends — Kurt and Blaine's friends — and they've got this. They'll make this party the best one ever, and Blaine will totally love him for the rest of his life. Or the rest of his marriage at least, which as far as Sam can see is probably the same thing.</p>
            </blockquote>





	May the Best Man Win

**Author's Note:**

  * For [regala_electra](https://archiveofourown.org/users/regala_electra/gifts).



Sam tries not to fidget. He loves Skyping with Blaine — he loves _Blaine_ , period, but Cooper's presence is making him twitchy. No man should be allowed to look that good in high definition. Plus, Blaine's got this look on his face, like he's either really happy or only kind of gassy, and whatever he looks like that Sam knows that something really important is going to come out of his mouth.

"Sam. Cooper. I've gathered you here — "

"it's a Skype conference," Cooper points out, and Sam tries to aim his glare in whatever direction Cooper's head lies. He guesses left, since Cooper lives in California, and he's pretty sure that's west of Ohio.

Blaine isn't too bothered, though; he just ducks his head and goes, "I know, but I appreciate it anyway. I called you guys today to let you know how...important you are. To me."

Sam bumps his fist gently into the webcam. "Aw, thanks!"

"And, Kurt and I are getting married."

"That's great!" Sam says, as Cooper nods.

"Which means...I need a best man. And I want you two — the most important men in my life — to be there. What do you say? Co-best men?"

Sam frowns. His instincts say _hell yeah_ but the more rational part of his brain remembers how Kurt gets about weddings — really intense and a little scary. He wonders if Blaine would be the same, but in the end, well...they're bros, and Sam is truly, genuinely happy for him. "Consider it done." Sam nods with assurance, and Cooper throws up a couple of finger guns.

"Sure, little bro! We'll be the best best men money can buy."

"Uh," Blaine says, "you do know that you're not actually getting paid for anything, right? And that you'll probably have to pay for some things out-of-pocket..."

Cooper's confident smile droops, and Sam shakes his head. "Not a problem. I'm good with budgets, and tips have been amazing at work. We'll _split_ the costs — " Cooper's face, which had brightened slightly, falls once more " — and we'll handle everything. Trust us."

-

Best man duties actually aren't all that bad, especially when shared. Cooper had taken his half without complaint, hooking the groomsmen and groomslady up with formalwear. ("Relax, I know a guy.") Sam had gotten everyone to pitch in for a limited edition gold-plated tub of Cover Boy hair gel. Everything's perfect.

Which is where he sits now, at home with the Hummel-Hudsons a week before the wedding, dialing Cooper to check in on how the bachelor party is coming along.

Until it becomes apparent that it isn't.

"What do you mean you thought I was taking care of it?" Sam hisses angrily into the phone.

"I mean I thought you were taking care of it! I had groomswear, you had presents, we both show up at the reception. I thought that was the deal!"

Sam takes a few deep breaths. "What do you expect me to do now? The wedding is in a week! Everyone's gonna be flying in — it's taken the guys months to plan this wedding, how are we — _we_ ," he stresses, as Cooper makes a small noise of protest, "supposed to throw a bachelor party together in three days?"

"Listen," Cooper says. "All you need is bros, babes, and booze. It's not that hard. Send out a Twitter blast, hell, whatever you want, but just make sure everyone's available. I'll take care of the place. And," he continues, and Sam just knows he's smiling toothily into the phone. "You're welcome in advance."

-

He decides to call everyone up — social media invites are so 2013 — and starts with Tina.

"Heeey, fellow groomslady!"

"Yes...?" She sounds suspicious.

"So I wanted to uh," Sam starts, scratching the back of his neck. "Ask you to come to a party."

"I already said I'd be going to the wedding, Sam. It's a little late for that."

"No, I mean — the bachelor party."

"Oh. Where is it?"

"I don't know."

"Okay," Tina says, and Sam cringes at her tone. "Then when is it?""

"I don't know?"

"Sam!"

"All right, geez, we kind of forgot to plan everything for the bachelor party and it's totally last minute and I'm freaking out so could you please just say you'll come because we need all Blaine's friends to be there." Sam takes a breath, but Tina says nothing.

"Um. Are you still there?"

"Best friends."

"Come again?"

"You need _all_ of Blaine's best friends there. Me. And everyone else."

"Okay, okay — best _friends_ , got it — "

"And Kurt comes, too. We're not just _Blaine's_ friends, and they've been wanting a joint bachelor party for years, which you'd know if you double-checked and planned things when you were supposed to!"

"Aren't Rachel and Mercedes planning Kurt's like, groom-al shower?" 

Tina groans, like what she's explaining is totally obvious. "The bachelor party is the best man's duty, not the maid of honor's."

"Yeah, well, TheKnot.com didn't exactly have a step-by-step list of stuff to remember when your dude best friend is getting married to his dude fiancé, okay?"

"Do you want his other best friend's help or not?"

Frowning into the earpiece, Sam pauses. "You're...helping?"

"Of course," she says easily. "What kind of best friend would I be if I didn't?"

Sam exhales around a pleased grin.

"Thanks. Love you, too."

-

Tina gets Mike to be co-designated driver and help her chauffeur the grooms back and forth from their homes to the hotel rooms — which Cooper assures them will be ready for the party. Sugar promises she'll bring a few hundred of her favorite one dollar bills. Lauren offers to donate a giant penis-shaped cake for the party, courtesy of her pastry chef boyfriend. ("Get this, nerd. My man? Is a literal sugar daddy.")

Up next on the invite list is Puck, who Sam actually hasn't spoken to in months, but he answers the phone just as happily as ever.

"Hey-o, this is Puck."

'Puck!" Sam says, deciding not to beat around the bush. "I just wanted to make sure you were free a couple of days from now, because we're throwing the bachelor party and we weren't sure — "

"Dude, isn't it a little late?"

"I know," Sam sighs, flopping back onto the couch. If Puck — who had probably never turned in a single assignment on time in four years of high school — thinks he's late, then he's pretty damn late by the lowest of standards. "We're screwed. But we're trying. Will you come?"

"Sure thing. Do you want me to bring the booze?"

Sam laughs. "Hey. We're all of age now. Cutting it close for some of us, but getting alcohol shouldn't be a problem."

"No no, not that! I mean — I've still got the hookup with the guy I used to buy from, you know, the medium with the Ouija board? He gets all his shit off of like, dead people, super cheap. I can get us some of the good stuff. Hell, it'll be my treat."

"Oh my god," Sam says. "Thank you so much, yeah — that'll be great!"

"Don't mention it. Consider it a toast to the best bros I know."

-

Now that alcohol and rides are taken care of, all that's left is the rest of the guest list. Artie offers to videotape the party free of charge. Mercedes insists on providing a playlist of the best party hits. Sam spends an hour on the phone with Quinn catching up about college and all the pretty punk girls she meets on weekend trips to Manhattan, and it's nice talking to her, better than it ever was when they were in high school. With everyone, actually, and thinking about all of his old friends — half of whom are starting their lives and careers at barely past twenty — has Sam a little emotional. It's going to be great seeing everyone again, after varying stretches of time apart.

He saves Santana for last, mostly because she still scares him, just a little.

"Yeah, what's up?" she asks, without preamble.

"Wait," he says, disoriented. "How'd you get 'Trouty Mouth' as a ringback tone?"

"I spent a week with Mercedes. She snuck me into the studio and helped produce the track. Like the string arrangement, hm?"

"It's good, yeah, but — I'm calling 'cause — "

"Bachelor party? Yeah, I heard. I've been waiting."

Sam winces. "Sorry. There were a lot of people to invite, and it's all very last minute."

"And you didn't start it earlier?"

"I know," he sighs. "Are you coming or not?"

"Of course I am. Can't wait to see those Ken dolls get trashed at the hand of my favorite amphibious ex-boyfriend, right?" She laughs, and Sam is touched and only a little insulted.

-

Cooper sends him vague directions to the hotel room he'd booked, assuring that yes, it would be big enough to hold a party of twenty people and yeah, it's perfect, _relax_. Which is easy for Cooper to say. He hasn't just thrown together what may be the world's crappiest bachelor party in less than 24 hours.

Sam hopes Blaine likes it. He totally deserves the best party ever from his best dude friend ever and his best best man ever, but at this point all Sam can do is. Well. Hope for the best.

With a few murmurs and minimal complaint (mostly from Santana, who had been vocal about the appalling breadstick shortage) everyone gathers in the reception hall lobby after the rehearsal dinner. They wait expectantly for instruction, shifting restlessly.

"Okay," Sam says, rubbing his hands together and checking his phone for the conformation texts. "Cooper's waiting at, uh, Sleazy Leigh's Ho-tel. Mike and Tina have got the grooms. They're taking them home to change, which should buy us time to set up. Got the cake?"

"Roger that," Lauren answers.

"Got the music?"

"You know it," Mercedes says with a smile.

"Everyone else ready?"

The small crowd nods, and Sam takes a breath. It's all gonna be okay. These are his friends — Kurt and Blaine's friends — and they've got this. They'll make this party the best one ever, and Blaine will totally love him for the rest of his life. Or the rest of his marriage at least, which as far as Sam can see is probably the same thing.

"Awesome." Sam nods towards the general direction of his car. "Follow my car, and we're good to go!"

-

Cooper stands in the hotel's parking lot as they pull in. It's empty, which would normally set off alarm bells but Sam is too busy admiring Cooper's game. He tilts his head down at the woman he's talking to so they're eye to eye, and she throws her head back and laughs at what Sam assumes must be a super funny joke.

"Hey guys," Cooper calls as they get out of their respective cars. "I was just talking to my new friend, Millifred! Isn't she great?" He points to Millifred, who has to be at least seventy years old, and who blushes and giggles like a lovestruck teenager. "She pulled some strings and got us the best and biggest room in the place! Right, Mille?"

Millifred blushes some more and waves a hand. "It was no trouble at all, Mr. Anderson."

"Please." Cooper pauses dramatically, fluttering his eyelashes at her. "Call me Coop."

"Yes... _Coop,_ " Millifred says, motioning for everyone to follow. "Right this way."

Sam eyes the peeling wallpaper and dusty green shag carpets they pass, and when Millifred steps just out of earshot, he whispers to Cooper.

"I thought I told you to get us a classy place!"

"This is classy," Cooper whispers back, defensive.

"It smells like old laundry. And I've lived with Finn. I _know_ old laundry."

Cooper shrugs. "There was some convention downtown. Every other place I checked was all booked, and I got this place for a total steal. It took a lot of work, but in the end all I had to do was promise her a part in my upcoming feature film."

Sam stops walking. "Aren't you going to be a hubcap in _Cars VII_?"

"Yeah. So? Without me you wouldn't even have a place, so you're welcome for singlehandedly saving the party."

He almost wants to bang his own head into the wall, but suspicious-looking stains tell him it's probably not a great idea.

"Here we are," Millifred announces, unlocking the door to their suite. It's actually not as awful inside as the endless hallway had led him to believe. It's roomy, with two queen beds and crisp white sheets, and there's a sliding glass door with a balcony that overlooks a small, shady glen in the back of the complex. The walls are bare, but it looks clean and spacious, so Sam gives Cooper a quiet fistbump of apology.

"Thanks Millie! Don't lose my number, okay babe?"

She sends a final wave in Cooper's direction, blowing a kiss and shutting the door.

"Now what?" Santana asks, sitting at the edge of one of the beds.

"Right," Sam says, all business. He checks his watch. "We've got about fifteen minutes before they get here. Mercedes, can you start the music?"

"Got it," she says, bringing out her laptop. P!nk's "Get the Party Started" fills the room. When Finn tilts his head questioningly, Mercedes shakes her head. "I made a mix of Kurt and Blaine's favorite party jams. I'm their friend. I'm not gonna judge."

"O...kay." Sam looks around. "Puck, set the drinks on the desk, will you?"

Puck obediently hauls his cooler forward, lifting out bottles of Don Perignon and Cristal Lite.

"What the hell is this?" Santana demands, holding up a bottle of Patron Saint and reading the label aloud. "'All of the flavor, none of the pesky soul-tarnishing alcohol'? You have got to be kidding me."

Sam punches Puck in the arm. "You said you were gonna bring the good stuff!"

"Yeah, well...turns out I still owe the guy money," Puck says. He rubs the sore spot, shooting Sam a dark look. "And I spent all my cash flying back into Lima for the wedding, so I had to improvise. _Ow_ , by the way."

"It's fine." The songs fades out, transitioning into "All Er Nuthin'" from _Oklahoma!_ "It's fine, just — Lauren, can you bring out the cake?"

"Whoa," Rachel whispers. "That thing is _huge_."

"I know," Lauren says. "It's to scale and everything."

"To scale of what?"

"That's for me to know," she replies, giving Rachel a smug smile.

"Thanks, Lauren," Sam says, helping her set it down on the bed next to Artie's chair. "We can talk about it later, they're gonna be here any second — "

As if on cue, or perhaps because Sam's life has the worst timing, like, ever, the door swings open and Mike, Tina, Kurt, and a pale-faced Blaine walk in.

"You okay?"

"Yeah," Blaine says. "Millifred just found out I was the Cooper Anderson's brother and spent about five minutes talking about his, um." He coughs. "Never mind."

Kurt looks around, beaming at his friends and settling down at the foot of the bed on which Unique, Mercedes, Rachel, and Finn sit. "My favorite groomsladies," he slurs, and as an afterthought he adds, "Plus groomsman!"

Sam glances at Tina, who shrugs. "We had them pregame a little in the car. Blaine wanted to wait, but I think Kurt got a little too excited."

"I'll take care of him," Blaine assures, sitting next to Kurt and gathering him, loose-limbed and cuddly, into his lap. "Come here, sweetheart."

There's a long, awkward pause while Kurt giggles happily into Blaine's neck, humming along to "Moment 4 Life," and Sam tugs on his collar nervously.

Brittany blinks. "Now what?"

"Um," Sam looks around desperately, and his friends stare expectantly back at him.

Finally, Sugar cracks the tension, unzipping the zebra-print suitcase she'd brought and revealing stacks and stacks of one dollar bills. "So where are the strippers?"

Kurt and Blaine look up expectantly, and Sam freezes.

"Cooper," he says. "Did you book the strippers?"

"...No?"

Shit.

To be fair, Sam doesn't remember the topic ever coming up, which is, okay, kind of partly his own fault too, but complete panic mode starts to set in and The Blond Chameleon would never let his best friend down and he runs a hand through his hair and — as Nicki Minaj segues into "Losing My Mind" from _Follies_ by way of Liza Minnelli's 1989 disco album _Results_ — decides to save the day.

"Turn the music up, Mercedes? And dim the lights!"

"What are you doing?" Tina hisses, confused.

"What I was born to do." Sam replies. For a brief second he wishes he had a cape — that'd definitely set the scene a little better and there's always room for a little flair — but he flexes his shoulders and cracks his knuckles, muttering "White Chocolate to the rescue."

Rolling his hips to the beat, he makes his way to where Kurt and Blaine sit. "Oh my god," Blaine says, jaw open as Sam sensually sheds his baseball tee.

Santana yells "Put it back on," but Sam ignores her. He's no stranger to hecklers. With a shimmy, he positions his abs right in front of Blaine's head, thrusting into the air between them.

" _The thought of you stays bright tonight,_ " he sings, grateful that Blaine had burned this entire album for their freshman year summer road trip. Maybe this'll work out after all. It's not like he could've hired strippers with abs like his who know all of the words to Blaine's favorite Euro-disco albums.

"Oh my god!" Blaine says again, louder, and it'd be flattering if he didn't look so damn horrified. Or if he was looking at Sam at all. Sam looks over his shoulder, to where Cooper — has flung his pants over a lamp. Cooper is _half naked_. Cooper is stripping, and Sam glares.

"What are you doing, dude?"

"I took exotic dance lessons for my last role, you know. You're not the only professional in this room."

Cooper begins thrusting, and ugh, his technique is all wrong, but a dancer never lets a distraction get in the way of a good show. Sam tries to focus on his own moves, but Cooper is right in his dance square, hands behind his head and pelvis moving into Kurt's personal space. Kurt scrambles off of Blaine's lap but keeps his head on Blaine's shoulder. He stares dreamily up at Cooper, which Blaine must notice because he sticks his tongue out at Cooper's gyrating ass. Meanwhile, Sugar and Rachel whoop loudly, throwing money into the air while Santana and Mercedes shake their heads in sad judgement.

And then a few things happen in immediate succession:

  1. Finn takes a sip of god knows whatever he could find to put in his cup, and instead of swallowing he scrunches his face up and sprays it across the room, where it lands mostly on Artie. "Sorry dude," Finn says sheepishly, coughing violently and handing Artie some Kleenex.
  2. Sam misjudges the distance and when he shoves down his pants (much more difficult without breakaway trousers, he laments) he crashes into the nightstand, falling down with his pants around his ankles and his feet in the air.
  3. While Sam struggles to untangle himself from his own pants, Cooper gets more enthusiastic, shaking his — okay, kind of awesome; Sam makes a mental note to ask where he works out — body inches away from Kurt's face, and when Blaine croaks out a strangled, "Coop..." Kurt mutters "Honey, shh" out of the side of his mouth.
  4. Cooper's overzealous moves cause him to trip over Sam's flailing legs, and with a loud yell —
  5. Cooper goes flying into the penis cake.



Faintly, Brittany murmurs, "I thought they were supposed to jump _out_ of it." There's a moment of silence as Liza Minnelli fades out and the opening strains of "Nothing Compares 2 U" fill the quiet.

Cooper drags himself to the edge of the bed with a surprising amount of dignity, considering he's only wearing cake and underwear, and rolls up into a sitting position. He smiles brightly. 'Best bachelor party ever, right?"

Sam surveys the room. Finn looks green, like he could hurl at any second. The cake is squashed, with a deep, round imprint in the shape of Cooper's ass. Mercedes looks like she's on the verge of hysterical laughter. Only Rachel and Sugar look truly happy, gleefully continuing to toss dollar bills in their direction. 

He glances at Blaine, whose eyes look extra wide and wet, and whose bottom lip is getting wobbly like when he watches those Humane Society commercials with Sarah McLachlan, and braces himself for the worst.

"I'm so sorry Blaine, I wanted to throw you the best party— but then Cooper, and the booze — and the strippers, and — " Sam babbles, as Blaine gently sits Kurt upright and climbs up off the floor to stand before him, and shit, Blaine is actually _crying_ , that is a _tear_ , and Sam starts to apologize again but Blaine cuts him off.

"Thank you so much," he chokes out, throwing his arms around Sam's neck and pressing his face into Sam's naked shoulder before releasing him to hug Cooper. "You guys are the best best men, ever."

"But this party blows," Santana says, arms crossed.

Sam nods forlornly. All the awkward is making his nipples tense up. "It really does."

Blaine shakes his head, leaning down to take the handkerchief Kurt offers him. He blows his nose and sniffs loudly. "It's just that...when I was little I never thought I'd get a wedding at all. Much less a bachelor party, or two of the best men I know."

"You're not like, gonna name your kids after us, are you?" Sam hates to ruin the moment, but he's read _Harry Potter_. This could get ugly.

With a laugh, Blaine says, "C'mere, you two" and gathers Sam and Cooper into a big three-way hug. Cooper's waist is kind of slimy from the frosting, but Sam doesn't mind as they all embrace and Blaine beams at them through his tears. "My best men, and my best friends, and my gorgeous fiancé..." At this, Kurt gets up to join them in the group hug, situating himself between Blaine and Cooper and looking more blissed-out than Sam's ever seen him. "I'm the luckiest boy alive," Blaine sighs, and Kurt gives him a peck on the cheek.

"I know the feeling," Kurt says, smiling warmly. "Thanks, Sam. And thanks, Cooper. This was — well, I certainly enjoyed the show."

"Yeah?" Sam says, brightening. "You mean it?"

Kurt and Blaine both nod — Kurt nods more vigorously, and Blaine keeps his eyes firmly on Sam's — and Cooper flashes a dazzling smile. "Of course you did. I'm a professional, you know."

Sam decides to let that comment go, because in all truthfulness he really couldn't have done this without Cooper's help. Or anyone else's.

-

"So," Cooper says, hours later as Millifred pours him another shot from her emergency stash of Maker's Mark. "There I was, on set, surrounded by professional go-go dancers — I didn't use a body double by the way, I mean, look at me!" His arms are around Millifred and Rachel on either side, and they make noises of assent. "And then I found out, it's all in the glutes, my friends. That's the key to the art of exotic dance." 

Across the room, Sam mutters, "Not true, not true at all." Mike offers him a silent nod of understanding, pointing to his own abs and sending Sam a thumbs-up.

Blaine nudges Sam with his elbow. 'This party is amazing. Look, even Santana's having a good time." He points to where she sits on the floor, gazing adoringly at Brittany, who's found a clear spot to dance with Kurt, even though they'd turned off the music much earlier.

"Yeah," Sam agrees. "I'm having a blast." He looks at Blaine, whose smile could seriously be its own Bat Signal, but like, for happy things. Blaine looks _happy_ , and Sam smiles back. "What do you think? Was this an okay send-off into the ol' ball and chain? Party days are over, right?"

"Nah," Blaine says, shaking his head and turning to watch Kurt twirl Brittany. "It's not that we can't go out with our friends, or drink, or see strippers when we're married." He lifts a shoulder and tilts his head. "It's just that we're going to be doing that together. Thank you so much."

"For a great end?" Sam jokes

"A perfect beginning," Blaine corrects, and he holds out a fist for Sam to bump. Looking around the room — at Quinn, laughing earnestly at one of Artie's bad jokes; at Tina, effortlessly mixing drinks for Puck; at Mercedes, flushed with wine and laughter, giving him a coy, crooked smile — Sam is pretty okay with the turnout tonight.

"To many more," Sam says, meeting Blaine's fist with his own, and yeah. He's definitely the best best man, ever.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Kelsey and Mic for their counsel! And to buffyx aka Tumblr user wishyouwould for running this fest. :) Hope you like it, Regala Electra!


End file.
